Dirty Rich(15)

"I went to meet with Ms. Sarzó a few minutes ago, and she was already  out of the office. It doesn't seem typical. Do you have any idea where  she and her team went?" Her team. Cate. Cate is all I really care about,  even if I would never admit it to Kirk.

His answer is immediate. "Los Angeles."

What the fuck? California?

He starts to step out the door, then turns back one more time. "Cate  said Sandra-Ms. Sarzó scheduled a last minute meeting with the  Mulleavys."

"When will they be back?"

"Thursday," he says, then disappears through the doors, not looking back.





Fucking California.

All the way back to my penthouse, I try to sort out why the hell Cate  didn't call me. Send me a text. Email me, for fuck's sake, the second  she knew she was leaving town.

I could have stopped it somehow, could have kept her closer.

No.

I couldn't have.

Because that would mean admitting to someone else that my need for her doesn't stop outside the meetings.

And I refuse.

I refuse.

But my heart won't stop pounding. I can't wait until Thursday. Something about Cate makes it completely fucking impossible.

I order an elaborate meal from my chef and watch shitty movies until  11:00, when I think I'll have a better shot at getting her on the phone.

Like always, she answers on the first ring. This time, her voice is a whisper.

"Catherine Schaffer."

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving, Ms. Schaffer?"

She draws in a sharp breath. "I didn't have a chance. Sandra told me we were leaving as soon as she got to the office."

My tone is icy. "I think you know better than that, Ms. Schaffer.  There's no reason you couldn't have informed me that you wouldn't be  making it to our meeting."

There's the slightest pause, and then she speaks again, her voice a  little louder. She must be somewhere she can talk at a regular volume.  "About those meetings … "

"You didn't enjoy yourself?"

"I did. I did," she says, her voice choked. "It's just too much of a risk. I wasn't thinking carefully when I agreed."

This is unbelievable.

No woman has ever-ever-done this to me before.

And if any ever came close, I didn't care.

Bow out now, says the logical part of me.

Never, screams every other part.

"Think again. We have an arrangement, Ms. Schaffer. I will see you on Thursday."





Chapter 20

Cate





He can't make me attend these meetings with him.

Can he?

No. It's completely inappropriate. Completely outside the bounds of a professional working relationship.

And that's why it turns me on so goddamn much.

Even though it's such a risk-such an incredible risk-hearing his voice  over the phone, telling me in no uncertain terms that I will be meeting  with him on Thursday, turns my core to molten heat. I want his hands  between my legs again, his hand on my back, pressing me down into the  desk. I want thirty minutes where I'm not in control.

Because, Jesus, it feels so good to let go of everything just for that  half hour. It's something I've never been able to get from exercise or  drinking with girlfriends or shitty movies or anything else.

I need this from him.

I need this month.

At the end of it, he'll go back to his regular billionaire life, with  exclusive parties and personal drivers and clothes tailored perfectly to  his rock-hard body. I'll still be here.

Unless he closes Basiqué.

I don't think that's going to happen. Sandra is one of the best editors  in the business, and Basiqué is one of the top magazines in the country.  It's Williams-Martin's best property. There's just no way he would shut  it down.

The fact is, he needs me, too.

He gave himself away a little on this phone call. A man who didn't  care-a man who was only in it for the sex, to be able to fuck me over  his desk, to be able to get me off for the hell of it-would have let it  go when I told him it was too risky to continue.         

     



 

He didn't.





The flight home from Los Angeles crawls by. I'm sitting in coach, which  is a small blessing, because Sandra sits in first class and leaves me to  my own devices.

My head throbs from lack of sleep. Sandra scheduled two days of  back-to-back meetings with Rodarte for a new feature, then booked an  early flight back to New York City. Once we land, it'll be a full day in  the office before my next meeting with Jax.

With a racing heart, I throw myself into the tasks of the day. While we  were on the way to the airport for the flight out, Sandra had me  reshuffle her schedule for the week to accommodate the last-minute trip.  It's a decision I still don't understand, to be totally honest. She  could have sent any number of people to meet with the people at Rodarte  in her place-including me-but I know better than to question her. If she  wants to take meetings in person, that's up to her. Regardless, it  makes Thursday afternoon a logistical nightmare. The meeting rooms are  crowded with people waiting for approvals on everything from layouts to  new pieces for photo shoots. I guide them into the office one by one so  Sandra can oversee her empire.

When 5:00 comes, there's a miraculous break in the steady stream of meetings.

After I've ushered a pair of designers back out into the hallway, Sandra  slips off her reading glasses and places them in her desk.

"Coat and purse, Catherine."

I gather her lightweight summer coat-it's too hot to wear it, but she  folds it over her arm nonetheless-from the closet and bring it to her.

"I'll be at a dinner with Theodore for the next couple of hours. When I return, have the mockups waiting for me."

"Of course, Sandra. Have a lovely time."

"Yes."

She's already heading for the door, not giving me a second glance.

I shouldn't go down to meet with Jax.

It's the wrong choice, and I know it.

I go anyway.

There are still a couple of people lingering in the meeting room. One  woman, with a tape measure hanging around her desk, looks up hopefully  when she sees me, then goes back to tapping her foot on the floor. She's  probably hoping to get an approval from Sandra. She'll be waiting a  while.

Three steps down the hallway, and Bryce appears, rounding the corner almost too fast for me to avoid him.

"Cate!" he cries, grasping my shoulders and pulling me in to kiss both my cheeks. "You look terrible!"

I laugh out loud. He's probably right. I grabbed just enough from the  Closet to make it through the two days in LA, and I'm sure the bags  under my eyes are too big to be covered by makeup. "It's been a long  week."

"But you're good to go. I just saw Sandra leaving. I'll be out of here  too, just as soon as I can get the final fitting on this outfit over  with." That explains the impatient seamstress.

"Don't let me stop you!" I say, as quickly as I can without seeming rude. I do want to catch up with Bryce, but Jax is waiting.

"You owe me a coffee date," he calls after me as I hurry down the hallway.

Pulling open the outer doors, I prepare to rush in and knock … but one of  Jax's inner doors is propped open already. He's standing in the middle  of his office, waiting, his mouth a thin line.

My heart pounds against my rib cage.

I step carefully into the room, and he moves behind me to close the door. The lock clicks into place.

We're alone.

But instead of wrapping me in his arms like he did the last time, he steps around in front of me, his eyes hard and cold.

"Jax-I-"

"Mr. Hunter." His tone is full of reprimand.

"Mr. Hunter … I wanted to talk about-"

He silences me by stepping forward, taking my face in his hands, and  devouring my mouth with a kiss so hot I think I'll melt right into the  floor.

His lips crush into mine, his tongue explores my mouth, his hands are  everywhere, on my waist, my breasts, the back of my neck. It lights  every part of me on fire. The taste of him is pure sex, pure confidence,  pure extravagance, and I want to taste him forever.

I moan into his mouth as he takes me in his arms, guiding me roughly  until my back is pressed against the wall. One of his strong hands pins  my wrists above my head, the other yanks my skirt up and rips my panties  aside.         

     



 

His mouth is still on me, nipping, licking the side of my neck, ravishing my lips.

When his fingers make contact with my folds I'm already soaked. He  shoves two fingers inside, lowers his head to my ear. "Spread. Wider."

I obey him without hesitation. What he's doing to me is rough and hot and I can't get enough.

He brings me right to the edge and then without a second to catch my  breath sends me tumbling over, coming so hard on his fingers my vision  blacks out.

Then, abruptly, he pulls his hand away and steps back, licking my juices from his fingers without breaking eye contact.

"We can stop meeting right now." His voice doesn't have a hint of a question.

And even in this moment, my muscles quaking from my explosive orgasm, my  heart bursting with how much I want him, I can't let go of the risk."

My voice is a choked whisper. "I don't know."